


From The Lips of the Vanquishers

by dryadgrl13



Series: Enchanter Brianne [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Inquisition, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Issues, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, NSFW in later chapters, No Beta, Smut, WIP, constructive & encouraging comments are life, dreaming in the Fade, more tags to be added later, sexy Fade times
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2018-06-25
Packaged: 2018-12-09 12:32:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11669199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dryadgrl13/pseuds/dryadgrl13
Summary: Brianne has finally found the family she's always wanted and the purpose she's always needed. The question now becomes: can she hold onto them?Come watch our enchanter make new friends, defend her makeshift family, and fall even deeper in love with her Commander.*Part 2 will encompass Brianne's journey from the Inquisition settling into Skyhold up to the seige of Adamant.





	1. Filled To Overflowing

**Author's Note:**

> “Victory! Sweet song rising from the lips of the vanquishers,  
> The host of Shartan, the clans of Alamarri, a thousand freemen  
> Held aloft blade and spear and to the Maker gave thanks.”  
> \--Canticle of Apotheosis, Apotheosis 1, The Aftermath of Valeria Fields

“Hessarian was filled to overflowing with doubt that the offer might be true,  
Yet did he reply with message of his own and arrange to meet the war-chief.”  
\--Canticle of Apotheosis, Apotheosis 1, Maferath Meets With Hessarian

*I have taken lines of Bioware dialogue and rehashed them to fit my story and my interpretation of Bioware’s characters. Some things I kept the same and some things I changed.

The doors of the War Room stretch from the stone floor all the way to the rotting ceiling beams. Brianne guesses it’s a height of around twenty feet. Maybe closer to thirty. Even Chantry doors, no matter how intricately carved and auspicious, are never this tall and imposing. How is she supposed to open them?

There seems to be a smaller door carved into the bottom left side of the thick, double doors. It’s barely visible, so Brianne isn’t sure if her brain is showing her something that isn’t there in the hopes that she won’t have to try struggling to open a twenty-foot door while the Inquisitor and his advisors watch in amusement. 

The mage is just about to run her fingers along the seam of the maybe-there, human-sized door within a door, when a quiet, feminine voice lilts, “It isn’t locked.”

Brianne startles and spins, catching the tail end of Leliana’s smile before it vanishes behind her mask of guarded watchfulness. 

“How long have you been standing there?” the mage asks good-naturedly.

“Not long,” Leliana replies before motioning for Brianne to step aside. She does, and watches as the woman raps her knuckles on the door in a specific pattern before pulling on what Brianne thought was an ornamental, metal fixture. The actually-there, human-sized door within a door swings open easily, and the the Nightingale steps into the room. Brianne smiles to herself and follows after.

Everyone else is already in the War Room, as Cal calls it (as though he and his advisors sit around all day playing the card game whose name matches). When asked to defend the impromptu title, the Inquisitor told her, “It has the War Table. It’s where we make the War Plans. It’s the War Room.” Varric seconded his flawless logic, and so others began to name it as such as well.

The Inquisitor’s back is to her as he looks down at something on the table. He doesn’t turn around to greet Leliana or Brianne when they enter. Josephine is also absorbed in reading the current parchment attached to the board in her hand. Cullen looks up at her though, and she watches his leg muscles catch and bunch, his hand leaving the pommel of his sword to balance himself on the table as he sways from the aborted action of moving around the table to greet her.

Brianne smiles brightly, hoping that he can see she doesn’t mind. The Commander isn’t one for public displays of affection. If she didn’t know him well, it might hurt Brianne’s feelings. She doesn’t want to be with someone who’s ashamed to be seen showering her in affection, but she knows that’s not the issue that stops Cullen from reaching for her in public. He’s a private man in general. He more than makes up for his lack of demonstrative public displays with the smaller, private ones she receives every chance he gets.

It’s only been a week since Brianne’s midnight breakdown in Cullen’s loft, but it somehow feels like months. She laid her body and her secrets bare for Cullen’s inspection. He laughed with her and cried with her, held and kissed her, and promised that she would never be alone in her sorrows again. He would help her shoulder them. 

Brianne’s smiling like a vapid apprentice causes her to miss Josephine’s greeting. Caldwell looks up at whatever the ambassador says, then abandons what he was staring at to sweep Brianne into a hug.

“I’m glad you’re back safe,” she manages when he sets her down.

“Me too. I know I was only gone four days, but it feels like four weeks! How’s my favorite mage?”

“I would have thought you’d have see Dorian first thing back to ask him yourself,” she teases, and is thrilled when the top of Cal’s ears turn the faintest bit pink.

“Hush, you,” he says as he bumps her shoulder lightly with his own. “I was off getting the rest of the supplies for your infirmary. Don’t make me take them all back.”

“You will do no such thing, your Worship,” Josephine scolds like a disappointed mother, and Brianne barely manages to keep from sticking her tongue out at him, lest the ambassador chastise her as well. “Mistress Lochland, you will need to vacate the construction site for the rest of the week. I apologize for the inconvenience. I will have one of the rooms overlooking the garden prepared for you. I believe the one next to Lord Pavus is vacant, if that is agreeable?”

“Thank you, Josephine,” Brianne acquiesces while stealing a glance at Cullen. She’s spent almost every night in his bed, and thought that everyone else in the keep already knew. She can’t move all her stuff into his loft though, nor does she want to, so having a room will at least keep her things safe no matter where she decides to lay her head at night.

Brianne can see that the skin of Cullen’s throat matches the red of his coat. The Commander is staring pointedly down at one of the markers on the map, avoiding all of the eyes looking at him. Leliana has a calculating smile on her face; Caldwell looks like the cat who ate the canary; and Josephine is trying valiantly to stay professional.

“Aren’t you going to offer the Enchanter different accommodations, Commander?” Leliana asks innocently.

“Leliana,” Josephine giggles, smacking her friend lightly with the board still in her hand. “That is their private business.”

“Oh, I think it’s everyone’s business when the Commander takes a lady to the top of the battlements and claims her for everyone to see,” Caldwell notes.

“Cullen!” Josephine gasps in equal parts horror and excitement.

“No, Josie, it was just a kiss,” Leliana says, “You didn’t miss much.”

“Excuse me?” Cullen interrupts indignantly. “I…”

“Yes, I’m sure it went beyond such a simple gesture,” Cal smiles wickedly. “They may also have been discussing siege tactics, or…”

“Trebuchet calibration?” Leliana adds.

“Maybe the Commander was giving her pointers on proper staff handling?” Caldwell snickers.

Brianne laughs out loud at that comment, and everyone but Cullen joins in. The Commander glares at his comrades murderously, which only makes them laugh harder. 

When Brianne catches her breath again, she turns back to Josephine. “I’ll go pack my things.”

“You cannot leave me with them,” Cullen bemoans, almost convincing enough to be taken seriously. Brianne shrugs and grins at him before turning towards the door. 

“Wait,” the ambassador calls out. “I did not ask you here just to tell you about the infirmary. Or to tease the Commander.” Brianne turns back to the table and the other advisor’s questioning looks.

Josephine takes a deep breath in before beginning, glancing down at the paper affixed to her board. “After the Inquisitor returned from Therinfall with his tale of what happened, and what he saw, I began making inquiries to the Imperial Court. I...have no way of knowing if the Empress has received any of my letters--our warnings--as Leliana’s agents are unable to place themselves in Orlais in any capacity where they would hear such news. I can only hope that the Empress has seen even one of my letters, and is simply choosing to ignore us. The current political situation is dangerously unstable and is complicating matters…” 

“Everything in the empire complicates matters. It’s the Orlesian national pastime,” Cullen snorts, unrepentant under the assault of his female compatriots’ withering looks.

“Six months from now, Celene will be holding a Grand Masquerade at Halamshiral,” Josephine informs them. 

“Will she even be in power in six months?” Caldwell muses. Brianne isn’t sure if his question is rhetorical or not, so she stays quiet when no one else answers him. They all stare down at the map of Thedas tacked onto the table they’re circled around. There are three markers within the boundaries of Orlais: one at the edge of Lake Celestine, another on top of Lydes, and the final one in the middle of Val Royeaux. Brianne doesn’t know what they mean exactly, but goosebumps rise on her arms as she stares too long at the marker depicting a clenched fist holding something spiked. 

“We need to be at that ball,” the spymaster finals says, breaking the prolonged silence. “It will be disguising peace talks held between Orlais’ warring factions. The talks will happen behind closed doors. No matter who is in power at the time, the Inquisition needs to have a hand in resolving Orlais’ political crisis.”

Caldwell issues forth a pained sound and slumps forward, bracing his forearms on the edge of the table. “I hate politics.”

Cullen reaches out and squeezes his hunched shoulder sympathetically. Josephine frowns at their dramatic Inquisitor and asks, “Your Worship, are you not related to the Teyrn of Ostwick? Coming from one of the most powerful houses in the Free Marches has surely leant you enough experience to be somewhat comfortable with the Great Game?”

“Second son, Josie. I’m a second son,” he reminds her. “Politicking was my father’s job. I wanted nothing to do with it. I stayed as far away from it as I could until they let me run off and be a templar.” 

Cullen keeps his hand on Caldwell’s shoulder, and quietly comments, “There was too much of politics in the Order for you to escape it there.” Caldwell lets out a huff of amusement and agreement, and Cullen retracts his hand to rest on his sword again. 

“Regardless of anyone’s comfort level, Josie will secure us an invitation,” Leliana declares, her tone harsh enough to raise Brianne’s metaphorical hackles.

“Yes. I have already begun planning for transportation, travel routes, and housing. I’ve sent for several tailors and seamstresses, who will need to meet with you soon after they arrive.” The ‘you’ seems to include everyone in the room, and Brianne’s brows knit together in confusion. Before she can even put voice to her question, Josephine provides the answer.

“Mistress Lochland, I remember seeing you on several occasion at the Winter Palace. Can you remind me of what your station was there?”

“Oh. No, I was there on behalf of the Circle,” she hurries to explain. “I didn’t live or work at the palace like Madame de Fer. Whenever there was a function that required the Circle’s presence, I attended as the representative.”

“Not the First Enchanter?” Cullen asks, sounding generally curious.

“No. The only time Edmonde ever set foot outside the Spire was for the annual conclave in Cumberland. He was elderly, and claimed travel was bad for his health.”

“And how did you earn such a coveted position?” Leliana asks. “You were only at the Spire for two years before the Circles were dissolved. One would think that the First Enchanter would choose a mage he had known and trusted for longer.”

Brianne laughs. “Coveted! No, not really. One of the Senior Enchanters held the position before I did, but the day before the Arcane Advisor’s salon, they were whisked away by a group of templars for...I don’t remember.” Brianne pauses in her story to think. “They weren’t in trouble...I guess it doesn’t really matter. They were gone, and the First Enchanter called for a volunteer to take their place.”

She smiles at the memory. “No one would. A tower full of mages and not a single one wanted to be thrown to the wolves of the aristocracy. Edmonde was just about to choose someone randomly when I stepped forward. I thought, ‘When am I ever going to get a chance to see the palace again?’ There were plenty of templars in attendance, so he didn’t need to worry about me acting out. I was given the most beautiful robe I’d ever seen.” Brianne absently fingers the cuffs of the tunic she’s wearing. “The sleeves were embroidered in gold thread. I got to wear it every time after. I enjoyed myself, and apparently I created a nicer image of the Spire and the mages in it than my predecessor did, so the job was mine.”

“Excellent,” Josephine says to herself while scribbling something quickly on her board. “I do not have the time for individual etiquette lessons. Lady Vivienne and Lord Pavus have agreed to help me, and I was hoping that you would as well. _Everyone_ will be in attendance, which means there is much to learn before we travel to Halamshiral.”

Brianne blinks at the woman for a moment, letting her words sink in. “You want me to teach Orlesian etiquette?”

“Yes.”

“To whom?”

Cal points his thumb backwards at himself with a lopsided smile, and Brianne rolls her eyes. “And many other members of the Inner Circle,” Josephine adds. “Commander, I’ll also need you to help Knight-Commander Barris choose several other templars that will accompany us. They will attend lessons as well. Lady Vivienne is deciding on the mages that will represent us. You may be teaching several smaller classes, or one large one, depending on our numbers.”

Brianne isn’t sure what expression is on her face, but it makes Leliana laugh. “As Josie said, Vivienne and Dorian will be helping you, and possibly myself and Josie, if we have the time. We appreciate this, Enchanter.”

Brianne hasn’t even said yes yet, although she supposes there is only the illusion of choice. “When should I begin?” 

“Not for a while yet. I will let you know when the time draws closer.”

Caldwell suddenly throws his arms above his head in a prolonged stretch. “Leliana, I need you send scouts to Crestwood. I am going to have to meet Hawke there soon, so we might as well establish a few camps in the area.”

Leliana begins detailing what she already knows about that part of Western Ferelden, and Brianne starts to let herself out of the room for a second time. Cal reaches out and grabs her wrist, halting her progress. He gives her a look that says, _Stay._ None of the advisors acknowledge his nonverbal cue, so Brianne slowly moves to the far side of the room to sit down in a chair that’s propped against the wall. Why all of them insist on standing around a table instead of sitting is beyond Brianne.

The topic shifts to one that has the mage perking up in her seat instead of discretely starting at Cullen’s thickly muscled legs. “Krem approached me about using the Chargers to assess the state of Redcliffe and the Venatori holed up there. Bull’s frequently out with me in the field, but the Chargers are growing restless hanging around Skyhold. I need to speak with Bull about it, but what do we think? Cullen?”

Brianne doesn’t hear what Cullen says in response. Her mind has already travelled the seven day march away to land itself in Redcliffe. What does the town look like now? How much of the castle still stands after Felix’s sacrifice? Will Calpurnia still be there?

She needs to know.

“I’m going with them,” Brianne interrupts as she stands from her seat. “I know the area. Every single footpath, river, and cave. I spent the last three years of my life in that castle, and walked through the village every day. If the Chargers are scouting for information, I can keep them hidden. If they’re going to retake the castle, I can get them in undetected. Tell me when they’re leaving, and I’ll have my bag ready to go.”

“Slow down, Annie,” Caldwell orders. “Krem just said something to me about it last night. We need to decide if it’s worth our time and energy, then get Bull to agree, and then we need _to plan._ ” Brianne doesn’t realize she’s wound tight with anxiety and anticipation until Cal reaches out and pulls her into a one-armed hug. 

Cullen’s words have her immediately tensing back up. “I realize that Redcliffe is important to you, but it might not be a good idea for you to go back there.”

“Especially if you’d be too emotional,” Leliana adds. “Although...it would be beneficial to have someone knowledgeable there to assist the mercenaries. If the Enchanter would not be compromised by her emotions, I think it is a good idea.”

Cullen’s glaring mutinously and Leliana, and when Brianne steps away from Caldwell, she can see that he is too. 

“Sister Leliana, do you know where Teagan is?” Brianne asks.

“Teagan, is it?” the woman responds, raising an eyebrow. 

Brianne doesn’t understand. “Yes...Arl Teagan Guerrin. He was thrown out of the castle the day Alexius showed up. I never learned what happened to him.”

“He’s in Denerim. At least, he was before our relocation to Skyhold. He petitioned for aid that he didn’t receive. Anora was unsympathetic to his inability to keep his own home safe for longer than a decade.”

“Well that’s not very fair,” Brianne grumbles. “He wasn’t the Arl a decade ago. Well, if he’s still there, could you get a message to him? Or could you, Josephine?”

“What kind of message?” the ambassador asks curiously.

“I’d write it. I would make sure he knew the reason behind half his castle being demolished, and what happened to the mages after he left. I could say good things about the Inquisition, and let him know of our plan for reclaiming the area.”

“No. Do not speak of our plans,” Leliana orders. “But that is a good idea. Write your letter, and my agents will find him. It is fortuitous that you are intimate enough with the Arl to be able to write to him personally.”  
The emphasis she puts on the word ‘intimate’ has Brianne glancing at her sharply. The woman’s face is unreadable, and when she looks over at Cullen, Brianne’s eyes naturally follow.

The Commander is starting down at the table again with a white-knuckled grip on his sword. Brianne feels terrible as she fights to hide the joyous smile threatening to take over her face. Jealousy looks awful on Cullen, but the sight of it warms Brianne’s heart. 

She chooses her next words carefully. “The Arl was very polite and accommodating. I only spoke with him a handful of times over the course of three years. He would come down to the dining hall and sit with us. He was so friendly and kind that everyone wanted to talk with him. I’m not certain that he would remember my face, let alone my name, but it’s worth a try. He deserves to know that someone is willing to help him take back his home.” 

Leliana nods once before looking at Cullen again. “Commander, have you had a chance to read the letter Dorian wrote to me about his friend in Qarinus?”

“I skimmed through it. It’s good to know there are like-minded Magisters that are willing to curb Venatori activity from its origin. I’m not sure why you wanted me to see it, though. He asks for your aid, not mine.”

“In this case, I don’t think subtlety is the correct course of action.” All eyebrows around the War Table rise. Josephine reaches out to place the back of her hand on Leliana’s forehead, as though checking to see if she has a fever. Everyone chuckles as the spymaster bats her friend’s hand away with an eyeroll. “Commander, if you would send a mixed garrison of soldiers and templars to Magister Tilani, I believe she would be the best person to decide exactly what kind of support they can provide. From what Dorian has told me, Tevinter society welcomes open displays of power in place of subtle ones.” 

Cullen makes a note for himself on the parchment lying on the table in front of him, and Josephine shuffles the papers on her board before pulling one loose and handing it to Caldwell. “This came for you while you were away, Your Worship.”

Cal glances at the script on the front, then at the broken seal on the back. He scowls as he shoves the letter into one of his many pockets. “Would you like to summarize it for me, since it seems you’ve already read it.”

“Do you remember the letter you wrote to your cousin when we were at Haven?”

“The one where I demanded he shut his blighted pie-hole, and that if he ever threatened anyone with using the Inquisition to do his dirty work I’d hang him from his trousers in the middle of the market square?”

“The very same,” Josephine says dryly. “His mother writes to you now, begging for assistance. Or, as she phrased it, ‘Calling in the favor you promised my son for his earlier discretion.’ Apparently, at the Harvest Ball two weeks ago, one of the Bartletts insulted one of the Bayarts in an unforgivably public way, and the conflict has escalated from there. She…”

“Really, Josie?” Cal cuts her off. “Do we really have time to be playing the scolding nanny? I don’t care that my third cousin twice removed’s ego was bruised when someone said their pasture land was prettier than his. Or that his house was bigger, or whatever ridiculous thing it was. Corypheus is…”

“Two hundred soldiers fought in melee combat on the outskirts of the city a week ago,” Josephine informs him gravely. “Lady Osher writes that another confrontation is likely to occur, and she fears it may spill into the city this time.”

The Inquisitor growls and shoves himself away from the table. He paces towards one of the windows to stare out at the expanse of the Frostbacks. Everyone gives him the space and silence to fume and think.

“Wait,” he calls, pivoting back to the table. “You said Bartlett. The Teyrn’s House is involved in this and he isn’t helping to fix it!”

“It is Lady Osher’s belief that, were Lord Bartlett to intervene, it would be seen as favoritism, and any offered solution would be ignored.

“What does my mother say?” 

“Pardon?”

“My mother. Did you write to her? What does she think of this?”

For some reason Josephine lowers her eyes to the table, looking abashed. “Your Worship, I did not think it…”

“You didn’t write to her, did you?” Caldwell snaps with more venom than Brianne has ever heard him use. “Josephine, we have been over this. My mother is the Dowager of House Trevelyan. _She_ is the head of the Household, _not me._ I don’t care that she’s only Trevelyan by marriage. I cannot do it. I _will not_ do it.” 

Cal says that last part almost as a shout, but then immediately deflates. He looks years older as he walk back over to the War Table. He braces himself against it as though he needs help keeping himself vertical. “I don’t know what to do,” he says quietly, looking up at the stricken ambassador. “I only know how to be a templar. I barely got used to being a Herald before you handed me an ornamental sword and pronounced me an Inquisitor. I can’t…”

He cuts himself off before he finishes his thought. “What do you suggest I do, Advisors? Advise me.”

There’s a beat of silence before Josephine says, “We can mediate a talk between the wounded parties. Ask them to travel to Orlais. It's wise to remove them from their power base for discussions such as these, and will hopefully keep any fighting away from the city.”

Caldwell nods once in agreement, then asks for their own meeting to be adjourned. Everyone quickly grabs their things and leaves. Brianne feels Cullen’s hand on the small of her back, attempting to lead her from the room. She reaches around to grab it in a gentle press while she glances back at Cal. Cullen gets the message, and leaves her alone with her friend and a whispered promise that he’ll see her later tonight.

Brianne stands next to Caldwell, waiting in prolonged silence for him to say something. If he doesn’t want to talk about it, then she’ll leave him alone. He gave her that courtesy when they first arrived at Skyhold and she didn’t want to talk about her past. She can return the favor now. 

Finally, he huffs a quiet sound and straightens while removing his hands from the War Table. “Want to help me move my things?” Brianne asks with a small smile, thinking maybe he’d be open to talking as they worked together.

“I think I need to hit something,” he grins, but the smile is all wrong. It doesn’t reach his eyes.

He hurries past her, and it’s all she can do to keep up with him as he storms through the main hall and down to the practice ring. Brianne hears him curse to himself when he sees that the ring is empty of soldiers. Even Cassandra is absent from the line of training dummies she can normally be found hacking apart. Cal pulls a blunted sword off of the nearby rack and jumps when Brianne unhooks one of the staves.  
“Andraste’s flaming sword, Annie, can you at least make some noise when you follow a person. You’ll be held responsible if the Inquisitor keels over from a heart attack.”

“Because I caused it or because I didn’t fix it?” she baits as she tests the weight of the stave. 

“Both. What’re you doing?”

“You said you needed to hit something.” That’s all the warning she gives before she swings the stave down in an arc towards his head.

He parries at the last second. “Flames, woman! Let me get a shield.”

She chases after him as he retreats to where the practice shields are stacked outside of the armory. He’s able to grab the edge of the first one he finds before he has to spin away from her strike. The smile on his face is genuine as he shouts a battle cry and comes after her.

After several minutes of sparring, Cal asks, “How do you even know how to use that thing?”

Brianne feints left before swinging the stave low and catching one of his ankles to stumble him. He hisses in pain and hops on one foot for a moment. “It’s just an extra long staff with a blade at the top instead of the bottom. Why wouldn’t I know how to use it?”

“You are healing every single bruise you put on me, young lady” he orders in mock-outrage, his eyes twinkling as he catches his breath. “But seriously, only Knight-Enchanters are trained in melee staff techniques. Is this…” he trails off suddenly, looking sad, before catching her off guard with a shield bash. 

Their back-and-forth of striking and blocking continues for another handful of minutes before curiosity gets the better of her. “Is this what?”

“Hm? Oh…” Cal’s smiles fades again. “I was just going to ask if this was your mother’s doing, but you don’t have to answer that.”

Brianne’s smile turns bittersweet as well. “No. Not directly. She taught me how to use a dagger and shortsword, but not a stave. I went out of my way to learn this when I was with the Rebels. Mother taught me that it would be unwise to rely on magic all the time. I’ve kept that lesson close at hand my whole life.”

Talking and sparring is difficult, especially since Brianne isn’t practiced at it _at all._ She focuses on breathing and anticipating his strikes until he distracts her with another question. “Where is she now?”

Brianne’s smile disappears altogether. “She’s gone,” is all she can manage in reply.

She doesn’t know what Cal thought her mother might be up to, but being dead certainly wasn’t what he had in mind. His steps actually falter and his blow swings wide. “What happened?” he asks after he’s lowered his weapon.

“Withdrawals finally caught up to her,” Brianne shrugs, as though it’s not one of the single most painful memories of her existence. Dorian must be rubbing off on her. “It’s alright,” she soothes as Caldwell’s entire demeanor shifts into shock and horror. “She’s been gone...sixteen? Seventeen years now? It’s alright.” 

Cal looks down at his sword and is silent. Brianne wonders if she should take a swing at him again to change the subject. She also wonders whether or not he’s still taking his own philter every week, but before she can ask him, he finally looks up. “Did you know that the first bit of sword work I ever learned was from her?”

“She loved teaching,” Brianne recalls. “She liked being near my father in the Circle, but she was happiest when working with the recruits. She believed in teaching things well the first time around. It saved everyone…”

“Time, headaches, and bruised bones,” Cal finishes for her. 

Brianne throws back her head a laughs. It’s not funny, what her mother used to say. It just strikes Brianne as funny in this moment, in the middle of the training ring, in a dilapidated elvhen keep hidden away in the Frostback Mountains, that a mage and templar are reciting those words to each other. That someone other than herself remembers the good person that her mother used to be, not the wretched image that’s in her nightmares. 

Her laughter turns a bit manic, but then Cal is wrapping her up in a hug, and Brianne has to turn her face away from his chest so she doesn’t stain his tunic. He holds onto her for several long moments before whispering, “Maybe we should move this some place else.”

Brianne pinches his side and he yelps. “Ow! Damn it, woman, I’m not propositioning you. I just don’t want this getting back to Cullen. He owns a very large, very sharp sword, and he demonstrated earlier that he is, in fact, the jealous type.” 

“What about Dorian?” she teases as they walk their weapons back to the racks they belong to. 

“What about him?”

“You know,” she says as she bumps into him with her hip. 

Caldwell flops down in the shade outside of the soon-to-be infirmary and sighs. “I don’t know what to tell you, Annie.”

“I thought…” she lets her sentence trail off, as she’s all of a sudden second guessing everything that she’s seen between the two men. “Do you like him?”

“Of course I like him,” he says as he picks at a clump of grass by his heels. “I like his stupid clothes, and his perfect hair, and his irritating smirk, and his…”

“Okay,” she giggles. “Does he know you like him?”

“Yes,” Cal says vehemently as he starts ripping individual blades off grass up from the ground.

“Does he not like you back?” Brianne would have bet good coin on Dorian holding a candle for the Inquisitor.

“Yes...no….not enough.” the forlorn man says more to circle of torn up grass by his feet than to Brianne.

“Have you talked to him about it?”

Caldwell moves from picking at the grass to picking at the lacing of his boots. “Yeees.” He drawls.

“And what did he say?”

“He...may have been drunk…” Caldwell confesses sheepishly. 

Brianne isn’t certain whether to be amused or irritated. “And what did drunken Dorian say about your relationship?”

Cal finally looks up at her, and she can see how devastated he is by the memory. “He said we had no future. That this was fun, but...ugh, I don’t know!” Cal’s head thunks back against the wall of the building.

“He explicitly said, ‘You and I have no future together?’”

“He kept talking about how hard everything was going to be! ‘You’re the Inquisitor and I’m a filthy Magister.’” Cal imitates Dorian’s voice horribly. It’s so bad, Brianne wants to giggle, but she doesn’t want Cal to take her laughter the wrong way. “It’s like he decided that anything serious between us was going to be too difficult, and he’d already given up before he’d even tried!”

“Can I ask you something personal?”

Cal raises an eyebrow at her. “More personal than this?”

“Have you slept with him yet?”

“Annie! Have you slept with Cullen yet?”

“I sleep in his bed every night,” she answers without hesitation. Caldwell shouts and throws his hands over his ears, and she finally giggles at him.

Cal takes a deep breath before saying, “We’ve...we’ve fooled around a bit...but technically, I don’t know that I would say…”

“That’s okay,” Brianne cuts him off. “Good. That’s actually really good.”

“It’s good that I’ve had the longest sexual dry spell of my entire life? Not counting the time before I was clueless as to what other uses there were for my dick.”

That earns him a hard smack on the back of his head. “Dorian is just as voracious as you are, my friend, and it’s telling that he hasn’t loved you and left you yet. And no, I don’t think it’s because you’re the Inquisitor. I think it’s because he’s truly apprehensive of a future that he actually wants. I know he said those things to you, but...do you want my advice?”

Caldwell nods his head violently in the affirmative. “Take your time. Don’t start ignoring him now. He told you he’s worried it will be too much work, so show him that you’re willing to work for it. He thinks a serious relationship with you will be too difficult? Show him that you don’t care how difficult it is.”

Cal takes a moment to think about what she’s said. “When did you get so smart?” 

That earns him a second smack on the back of the head that he’s too slow to dodge. “Do you want me to talk to him?” Brianne offers.

Caldwell makes her promise that she won’t talk to Dorian on his behalf. Brianne makes sure to carefully word her promise, as nothing short of the Maker returning to earth will keep her from checking on her other best friend. Brianne gives Cal a hand up, and they both begin working on moving Brianne’s things into a single crate which will eventually be taken to her temporary quarters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back, folks! Sorry for the wait between Part 1 and Part 2. This is a WIP. There's still no beta in my life, so let me know what I'm doing wrong or right, okay? Please and thank you. 
> 
> Just in case you were wondering: staves and staffs are the same thing. The words can be used interchangeably, but in this universe I like to think that staffs are specialized for mages and staves are specialized for non-mages.


	2. Freedom Within Those Walls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Plays The Everley Brother's song "All I Have To Do Is Dream" and scurries away.
> 
> Brianne dreams of the past, and it gets a bit NSFW at the end. Tee hee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "The Maker is with us! His Light shall be our banner,  
> And we shall bear it through the gates of that city and deliver it  
> To our brothers and sisters awaiting their freedom within those walls,  
> At last, the Light shall shine upon all of creation,  
> If we are only strong enough to carry it."  
> \--Canticle of Apotheosis, Apotheosis 1, Andraste’s Sermon to the Armies

Brianne arrived at Kinloch in the middle of the night. Her dream-memories of it are vague. They’re filled more with the swirling, green mist of the Fade than concrete images of herself and the tower. The templars of Redcliffe had to keep her constantly drugged after her mother died. They forced distilled poppy juice down her throat, and her world became a haze of sights and sounds she couldn’t bring herself to care about. Twenty-fours hours later she was waking up on the bottom level of a musty-smelling bunk bed, surrounded by a handful of girls and boys her age looming over her as she slept.

The youngest boy turned and ran from the room when she looked at him, but the others distracted her by speaking all at once. They wanted to know her name, where she came from, and who she had accidentally hurt. (A family member? A servant? An animal?) They wanted to know if she could read and write, and in what languages. They wanted to know…

“Alright, children. Let’s give our new friend some room to breathe,” an elderly woman called over the heads of the babbling magelings. They scattered obediently, except for the young boy from earlier who stayed by the woman’s side. He must have run and retrieved Brianne’s new jailer.

“Hello, child,” the woman soothed as she knelt by the bedside. “My name is Wynne. I am an Enchanter and teacher here. Do you know where you are?” 

“I was in Redcliffe,” Brianne murmured groggily. “So this is the Ferelden Circle Tower.”

“Yes. It’s called Kinloch Hold, set in the middle of Lake Calenhad.” Brianne nodded her head woodenly, having seen the structure off in the distance whenever her and her mother used to visit the lakeside. “Are you Ferelden?” Wynne asked.

“I don’t know.” Brianne wasn’t sure if living in Ferelden for the past several years would qualify her as Ferelden. She didn’t know if she was still supposed to pretend that she was Bryony and her dead mother was Ana. She didn’t know what her purpose was anymore now that she had no one to protect and no future of her own to dream about.

Wynne looked on sympathetically and dropped the subject. She helped Brianne out of the bed, which was when they both realized that the young girl was still fighting off her inebriation. Wynne let a fierce scowl flash across her face for a moment before smoothing it back into the calm lines it originally held. She had Brianne sit down on the edge of the bed again as she slowly moved her hands down the girl’s body. “This might feel strange,” Wynne warned her before Brianne began to tingle all over. 

Brianne had never been healed (magically, that is) by anyone other than her father. She hadn’t even attempted to heal herself with her own magic. Brianne closed her eyes, turning her gaze inward, and watched as Wynne’s magic burned away the influence of the poppy in her body. 

She threw her hands out to catch Wynne’s just as the woman’s magic faded away. Wynne held very still as the girl in front of her trembled and tried to keep from crying. “You’re a healer,” Brianne whispered brokenly. Wynne nodded her head in affirmation before letting out a soft _Oh_ as Brianne pushed her own magic into Wynne, healing a papercut along the woman’s index finger, along with the beginnings of a fabric burn along the woman’s knees.

For some reason Wynne blushed furiously, but smiled nonetheless. She squeezed the mageling’s hands and pulled her up from the bed. “I have never met a mage who could work healing magic at such a young age. Was it your first manifestation?”

“Yes. My friend broke his arm.”

“And you fixed it? Remarkable. It will be good to have such an accomplished young healer among us.” Wynne led her from the large room into a circular corridor. Brianne noticed the children from earlier had either moved along the edges of the room they were in, or had congregated in the corridor, peeking through the door that had been left open. Brianne winced at the display they just witnessed, but no one looked as though they were laughing at her. Most of the kids smiled as she passed, and a more than a few sent her sympathetic looks.

They made it to the end of the corridor and ascended a flight of stone stairs. At the top, Wynne turned to her and asked, “What would you like to be called?”

Such a strange question. Not, _What’s your name?_ but _What would you like to be called?_ Was Brianne supposed to give her birth name, or was this an opportunity to choose a new identity for herself? Was she just asking if Brianne had any nicknames she’d like to go by? It was very confusing. 

__“I’m Brianne,” she said hesitantly. Wynne repeated it as she opened the door leading to the next level of the Tower._ _

__Adults bustled up and down the new corridor. Most were in identical robes that only varied in color. There were templars stationed outside of each door that branched off from the hallway. They were in full plate armor, and stood so still that Brianne thought for a second they might be statues instead of people. One of them moved though, to open a door for for a mage whose hands were full of books. The mage was as startled as Brianne, and as they passed the pair, Brianne heard the Templar chuckling to himself._ _

__“Just once more,” Wynne called over her shoulder as they entered another flight of stairs leading up. “Irving and Gregoir are meeting in Gregoir’s office today. These old bones always prefer when they’re down in Irving’s. Not so many stairs to climb.”_ _

__Brianne wanted to make a comment about how Wynne couldn’t be that old. Sure, her brown hair may be half silver, from what Brianne can see of it pulled back in the tail the mage’s wearing. She surely can’t be more than fifty, though. Brianne decided that she didn’t know the woman well enough to comment, and continued to follow along silently._ _

__The new corridor they entered was a stark contrast to the previous one. With not a soul in sight, Wynne strode down the hallway to stop at the only door with a templar stationed outside of it. She rapped on the door twice before there was a muffled response, and the door swung open from the inside._ _

__“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” Wynne said loudly as she walked gracefully into the room. Her entrance ended whatever meeting had been taking place, as the templar who was addressing the others in the room abruptly cut himself off in order to turn towards the mages behind him._ _

__“Enchanter,” the templar greeted brusquely while sweeping his squinting eyes over Wynne and her small charge. “Is this the girl that was brought in last night?”_ _

__Wynne nodded and went to say something, but the loud scrape of a chair against the floor pulled everyone’s attention towards a mage rising from behind the desk in the middle of the room._ _

__His graying hairline and the careful way he began walking after standing up belied his age. The tiniest of smiles disturbed the wrinkles around his mouth as he moved to stand in front of Brianne. “Welcome to Kinloch Hold, my dear girl. We are very happy to have you here.”_ _

__Brianne again found herself at a loss for what to say, mainly because the man seemed so sincere. Taking her silence as a sign of fear and apprehension, the man soothed, “You do not have anything to be worried about now that you are here. We take care of our own. I see you have met Enchanter Wynne. She will be one of your teachers for the next few years. I am the First Enchanter of this Tower. You may call me Irving.”_ _

__The templar that had been leading the interrupted meeting issued a put-upon sigh, which caused the First Enchanter to grin. Brianne found her mouth turning up as well at what seemed to be a routine display of purposeful irritation._ _

__“This is our very serous Knight-Commander. Would you like to introduce yourself, or shall I?”_ _

__“My office is located on the ground floor of the Tower,” the Knight-Commander said to Brianne. “I have designated office hours. If I am not there, you can usually find me wherever the First Enchanter is. If there is a problem involving magic, or personal needs, please speak with one of your instructors. If there is a problem involving your safety, or the safety of anyone else in the Tower, find the nearest templar and report to them. The men in this room are my Knight-Captains.” The man gestured harshly around the room at the handful of templars. “They have their own lieutenants that help oversee the day-to-day activity of this Tower. Are there any questions?”_ _

__“No, ser,” Brianne whispered._ _

__“Your name, Knight-Commander?” Wynne suggested impishly._ _

__“Gregoir,” the man huffed amidst the chuckling that filled the room._ _

__“Wynne, why don’t you show our newest member where she can find a change of clothes?” Irving prodded. “We will see you later, my dear.”_ _

__With that, Wynne bustled her out of the First Enchanter’s office and back down to the ground level of the Tower. Half an hour later, Brianne (now wearing her new apprentice robe) was deposited at the end of a long bench table where other children were eating and talking. A bowl of lukewarm porridge and a cup of cold tea were placed in front of her by a servant, and Brianne halfheartedly dug in. She didn’t actually want to eat anything, but her stomach was protesting the processing of last night’s forceful drugging, and Brianne intuitively knew she needed to fill it with something in order for the cramping to stop._ _

__Four spoonfuls seemed to do the trick. She tried to wash it down with the cold tea, but it tasted just like the kind she used to make at camp, and a fresh wave of grief overpowered her. She wasn’t sure how long she sat at the table, idly fiddling with her spoon and trying not to cry, before someone plopped down directly across from her._ _

__She didn’t look up._ _

__The person didn’t say anything._ _

__The two of them sat in their stalemate for several minutes before a delicate hand crept into Brianne’s field of vision._ _

__“Are you going to drink this?” The hand pointed at Brianne’s tea._ _

Brianne shook her head _no._

__Pale fingers wrapped around the cup and drug it towards the owner of the voice. Brianne heard the soft gulps of the person swallowing, then the thunk of the cup landing back on the table._ _

__“Thank you,” the voice said. “I love tea. They won’t give us more than one cup per meal. Even if we ask nicely and behave. I haven’t figured out how to bribe them for it yet.”_ _

__Brianne finally looked up through her lashes. The girl sitting across the table was wearing the same robe as Brianne was, only in red. Her brown hair was pulled back in a bun, but half of it seemed to be escaping to land in springy curls around her face. Her eyes were big, and blue, and so very, very happy._ _

__“I’m Gwen,” the girl said, reaching out across the table to shake Brianne’s hand. “I’ve been here since I was seven and I’ll be thirteen in a few days. It’s not as bad as people made it seem it would be. I’ve lots of friends. When they come down to breakfast, I’ll introduce you.”_ _

__Brianne found herself curling forward to rest her forehead on the table. It was too much. It was all too much. She wanted to go home, whatever the Void that meant. She wanted her mother. She wanted to close her eyes and let the blackness take her again, and when she finally opened them, her mother would be with her and everything would be alright._ _

__“Oh no. Oh...it’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay,” her new friend soothed as she came around the end of the table to sit next to Brianne. “Can I...do you want a hug?”_ _

Brianne’s entire body began to shake instead of just her head. _Yes. Help me. Someone, please help me._

__Gwen didn’t seem to be any taller than Brianne, but the girl did a perfect job of wrapping Brianne up in a bear hug. Several minutes later, Brianne let Gwen lead her out of the eating area and back to the sleeping area. They were stopped multiple times by templars that wanted to know what was wrong, and Gwen handled them beautifully. Her smile and the calm explanation that she was just leading Brianne back to the bunks had each templar stepping back into their position (with the promise that she’d call out if she needed any help)._ _

__Maybe Kinloch wouldn’t be so different from Ostwick? Brianne’s father had been happy there. Maybe Brianne could be happy here._ _

__By the time the pair reached the sleeping quarters, Brianne had calmed down more. As a thank you, she helped Gwen rouse her sleeping friends and hurry them along to breakfast. Jowan and Kinnon were night and day to each other. Jowan was loud and opinionated while Kinnon was quiet and timid. Neither made as much effort as Gwen had to make Brianne feel at ease, which was surprisingly reassuring. Life was continuing on, as it always had._ _

__After breakfast there were lessons. Gwen stayed by Brianne’s side, showing her where to go and what to do. Brianne was exceedingly grateful when it came time for the lesson on magic theory, as the teacher handed her a book and ordered her to read it until she was caught up with everyone else. Brianne’s face burned as she silently stumbled through the same page of writing over and over again, trying to decipher meaning from whatever words she could._ _

It wasn’t as though she _couldn’t_ read, she insisted when Gwen realized what was happening. She new the alphabet, and had a decent vocabulary. There just wasn’t a lot of time for reading while on the run, living from day-to-day in rural Ferelden. Gwen began working with her at night, helping her to become more proficient at reading and writing. Jowan began spending more time with her as well, eager to show off that he was finally better at something than someone else. 

__Brianne wanted to thank Gwen in a personal way. No one outside of Brianne’s family had even put so much time and energy into helping her with something. Thinking of how Gwen savored her single cup of tea during meal times, Brianne decided she was going to procure some for her._ _

__It was easy enough to find where the larder and storage closets were. It was even easier to memorize the schedule of servants and cooks coming and going from those areas. Brianne only had to let someone know she had experience with baking, and she was allowed in to help the kitchen staff prepare and make the baked goods at the beginning of each week._ _

__One evening, several weeks after arriving at the Tower, Brianne put her plan into action. She waited until she was left alone in the kitchens while the cooks took a break and the servants were out in the dining hall, collecting plates and scrubbing tables. Brianne hurried over to the dried goods storage room, bent down on both knees, and began picking the lock. It gave faster than she expected it to, and the surprise of it had her pitching forward with the opening of the door directly into…_ _

__Solas’ shins._ _

__“Having fun?” Solas asks with his mouth settling into a disapproving line._ _

__“I was, you dream-stalker,” Brianne jokes as she dusts herself off and stands. Solas sighs heavily, causing Brianne to glance at his face to see what the matter is._ _

__“Are my lesson tedious, then? I apologize for not being entertaining enough for you.”_ _

__Brianne blinks and frowns at the agitated elf. “Solas, what’s wrong?”_ _

__“I instructed you to find me in the Fade while you slept. Instead, you chase your own memories. I am beginning to think you are not serious about learning to control yourself.”_ _

Instead of arguing, Brianne choses to grind her teeth and hold her tongue, forcing herself to look abashed. She isn’t sure why Solas is so worked up over this, but now is apparently not the time to question him. “I’m sorry, _hahren._ I didn’t mean to dishonor your faith in me. Would you like to continue tonight’s lesson, or should I come to you tomorrow night?” 

__Solas stands in contemplative silence for a moment. “We will move the lesson to tomorrow, but you must always be practicing. I am trying to teach you what has taken me a lifetime to learn. You have a marked habit of getting carried away by what you see here. You must always be the one in control.”_ _

__Brianne is the epitome of control as she forces herself to swallow several undignified remarks and merely nod at her teacher._ _

__“For tonight I’d like you to find a member of the Inquisition in the Fade. Don’t enter their dreams, just find them.” Solas doesn’t wait for her to respond. His form shifts into the shadows of Kinloch’s storage room, and then he’s gone from sight._ _

__Brianne blows air out through her mouth harshly, forcing several strands of hair to fly away from her face. Abandoning her dream memory, she closes her eyes and listens for who’s nearby._ _

__She can sense Solas retreating from where she is. Her consciousness passes over him to scan the Fade for others she recognizes. It’s easy for Brianne to feel the people dreaming around her in the Fade, what’s difficult is recognizing who they are without violating their privacy and spying on their dreams. That’s why Solas wants her to practice._ _

__She’s still a bit miffed at the grumpy elf, and since he’s not there to regulate her behavior, she decides to cheat. He wants her to find a member of the Inquisition? Fine. She’ll find Cullen._ _

__She’s done it several times now. Recognizing him in the Fade is far easier than recognizing anyone else, even Cal and Dorian (although Dorian has specifically asked her not to look for him, and she’s respected his wish so far)._ _

__Brianne visualizes the ramparts of Skyhold, and moments later they appear around her. She takes her time following the path that will lead to where Cullen dreams. She tries to keep her mind from wandering and accidentally ending up somewhere she doesn’t mean to._ _

__She has control. She will do herself, and her teacher, proud._ _

She reaches the beginning of the rampart that dead-ends at the Commander’s door when she senses the Fade shift around her. The fog turns viscous and dark. The path before her clouds over, and Brianne knows she had to get to Cullen _right now._

__She races forward, completely confident that the rampart is still below her feet, even though she can’t see it. She throws her weight against Cullen’s door and wills it to open. It does, and for the second time that night she stumbles forward through an open door to catch herself on the closest thing she can._ _

__The life-sized statue she’s clinging to looks almost Tevinter in origin. Brianne backs up to get a better look at it and almost tumbles down the staircase she’s at the top of. The walls are bare of any decorations. The only accents in the building are the statues littering the hallway branching off from the staircase, and a long, blood red carpet runner._ _

__Brianne’s about to follow the path of the carpet when she hears a woman’s scream come from below where she stands. Leaning over the railing, Brianne realizes that the stairs run along the side of a large, open room. There are no windows and only one door, which is currently being held open by templars to admit a flailing mage and her captors._ _

__A long procession of templars follow the single mage that’s bound and drugged. Magebane must be the drug of choice for these templars, as the woman is too coherent and violent to be dosed with anything else. Brianne realizes exactly where they are and exactly what’s about to happen when Cullen enter the room alongside a tall and imposing female templar. He shuts the door behind them and stands guard next to it._ _

The templar woman must be Meredith Stannard. She matches Varric’s description perfectly from _Tale of the Champion._ Brianne’s stomach turns as Kirkwall’s Knight-Commander sentences the mage in front of her to the Right of Tranquility, and the woman is forced on her knees as the templars circle around her. 

__Brianne descends the staircase as Meredith prepares the branding iron. Brianne can’t look at the scene in front of her, so she keeps her eyes pinned on Cullen. To any outside observer, he would seem uncaring about what’s unfolding before him, but Brianne is no casual acquaintance. This is the man she loves, and she knows how to read him._ _

__His frame is too stiff. The set of his jaw as he clenches his teeth contrasts his impassive expression. His hands are hidden behind his back, but Brianne would bet what little money she has that his knuckles are turning white from the force of his grip on his forearms._ _

__Yet he makes no move to intervene, even though it’s clear he’s unhappy with what’s happening._ _

__“Cullen,” Brianne calls out when she reaches the bottom of the stairs. He turns his head to look at her, but the mage in between them screams again, drawing his attention. One of the templars backhands the screaming woman, which immediately silences her._ _

__Cullen steps one foot forward, then pauses to look at his Knight-Commander. Meredith doesn’t seem concerned in the least. No one says anything as the mage hangs her head and blood drips down onto the stone floor._ _

“Cullen,” Brianne calls again, moving around the spectacle in the middle of the room. Cullen finally sees her, and his jaw hits the floor. She sees him mouth the word _No_ as he begins walking towards her. 

__“Come with me,” she orders, reaching out her hand._ _

__“You can’t be here,” he shouts at her from a few feet away. “You weren’t in Kirkwall. You can’t...how can you be here?”_ _

__“It’s a just a dream. A bad one. Let’s leave it.”_ _

__The cornered mage a few feet away from them wails as a templar grabs a fistful of her hair in order to pull her head back and expose her forehead to the brand. Meredith towers over the crying woman, reciting what seems to be a butchered version of a part of the Chant. Of course she would. Brianne can’t take much more of this, so she snatches up one of Cullen’s hands and attempts to drag him towards the exit._ _

__He won’t budge. He stares fixedly at his old Knight-Commander as she brands the mage. “That could have been you.”_ _

__“No,” Brianne assures him, tugging on his hand._ _

__“Yes. It could have been you. It still can be.”_ _

__“No, Cullen. You…”_ _

__“You think you know me,” he interrupts angrily. “But you weren’t here. You may have been at Kinloch, but you weren’t here. I let this happen, all the time. By the end, there was a Right of Tranquility ceremony every other day. Do you know how many mages that is?” His voice cracks and he tries to pull his hand away from hers, but she won’t let him._ _

__Cullen’s sorrow and self-loathing hang thick in the air. The scene around them flickers briefly as Cullen trembles and Despair gorges itself._ _

__“I was weak. I was a coward. I…”_ _

__“Am leaving now,” Brianne finishes for him. “Wake up. I will too, and I’ll come straight to your room. I bet you fell asleep at your desk again. You always have the worst dreams when you sleep at your desk.”_ _

Cullen stares at her in shock for a moment before his face clears and his mouth opens into a small _oh._ “You’re actually here right now. This is real.” 

__“Everything that happens here is real.” Brianne repeats one of Solas’ favorite phrases. “Just because it’s The Fade, that doesn’t make what happens here less real. That’s why it’s so dangerous.”_ _

__Cullen looks skeptical, but takes up her hand again and turns them towards the door. They don’t make it more than a few steps before they hear an unearthly screech. Cullen’s warrior reflexes kick in as he pulls her towards him and spins with her out of the way of the despair demon’s talons._ _

__A quick scan reveals there’s no one in the room anymore except them and the demon. Cullen unsheathes his sword and reaches for a shield that’s not there. Brianne wills his one from Skyhold into existence and tosses it to him. He catches it effortlessly and engages the demon._ _

__A few well-placed shield bashes and one large fireball later, the demon screams its demise into the echoing Fade. Barely breathing heavily, Cullen still rushes over to her to see if she’s alright. Laughing at his over-protectiveness, Brianne holds him close and whispers her thanks into the crook of his neck._ _

__They hold the embrace for a minute before Cullen leans back in order to kiss her temple. “So, how do I wake up?”_ _

__“I usually will myself into consciousness,” she admits. “I want to wake up, so I do.”_ _

Cullen must be trying to do as she suggested, as they stay standing as they are for several long moments. She can feel him sigh against her when nothing happens. Brianne moves her hands to cup his face, and says, “It won’t work if I don’t _want_ to wake up. What do you want right now?" 

__The breathtakingly handsome man before her leans down and takes her mouth in a tender kiss. She hums into it, and wraps her arms around his neck. For a moment she’s overcome with vertigo, but the feeling vanishes at the sensation of something soft pressing against her back, supporting her body where she stands._ _

__Or lays, at it were. Cullen’s transported them to his bed. He props himself up on his elbows to peer down at her, and she opens her legs for him to settle easier into the cradle of her pelvis._ _

__“This is your doing,” she says, addressing his unspoken question. “I take it you don’t really want to wake up then.”_ _

__“This is my favorite part of every day,” he says. His breath ghosts across her eyelashes as he leans closer to her. “I have never been comfortable sleeping next to other people since moving from Ferelden. I’ve always been afraid of the nightmares, and waking in the middle of the night to vomit over the side of the bed has done wonders for my love life.”_ _

__Brianne turns her head to the side so she doesn’t snort in his face. He interrupts her giggling by tracing his nose along the crest of her ear and down the stretch of her neck. “It’s easy to pretend that everything’s alright, when I’m with you. There’s no war. No danger. Just a beautiful woman in my bed and a few moments full of peace.”_ _

__Brianne’s throat clogs with emotions too complicated to untangle and put into words, so she simply wraps her arms around his neck, hooks a leg along his hip, and tugs him down to her. She rolls them to their sides and burrows into his chest, pressing gentle kissing along his exposed clavicle._ _

__A second later, Cullen’s shirt vanishes, and Brianne’s so startled she stops what she’s doing. Did she do that, or did he? Cullen chuckles and laces his finger through her hair, as close to her scalp as he can get without touching it. Brianne sucks in a sharp breath of anticipation. Cullen’s a smart man. He noticed very quickly how much she enjoyed anything he did with her hair. He gently uses his fingers to coax her to continue peppering kisses along his chest, and he begins lightly brushing and tugging at the loose strands of her wheat-colored tresses._ _

__Hands roam, more clothing vanishes, and before Brianne knows it, she’s been scooted towards the headboard with the man she loves draped between her open legs, laving open-mouthed kisses along each exposed breast._ _

__Brianne has the fleeting thought that this is getting out of hand before rationality dissolves into sinful sensation. There is nothing but the wet suction of Cullen’s lips, the scratch of rough fingertips, and the damp ache of her core. Cullen feasts upon her, smiling as she writhes, and she grins in return as he shallowly thrusts his hips down into the bed. Each pass of his tongue over a pert nipple shoots pleasure down her spine, arching her into his mouth. He groans softly and suddenly heaves himself up and over, plunging that talented tongue into her open, panting mouth._ _

__Reason breaks through lust when she feels the scalding press of Cullen’s member against her thigh, so very close to where her body is ready for him. They have yet to take that final step, even though she knows they both want to. Cullen is a romantic at heart, so she knows his hesitancy is due to his wish to make the experience perfect for the both of them. It’s so sweet, and the complete opposite attitude of every partner she’s ever had, Brianne has forced herself to be patient. If Cullen wants candlelight, decadent finger food, and hours upon hours for leisurely-paced lovemaking, well, who is she to deny him that?_ _

__But the Fade is not the place for that to happen. Cullen will not be happy when he comes down from the emotional high he’s experiencing. Their combined passion could also attract a desire demon, and that would really be a terrible thing, especially taking into consideration the horrors of Cullen’s past._ _

__Brianne’s blood chills as she wonders if they’ve already attracted a demon; if that’s why they both are overcome by their baser instincts. She catches Cullen’s face in her hands and pushes him off of her. He blinks down at her in confusion, but moves with her when she rolls him onto his back so she can straddle his waist. He smiles again, thinking they’re just changing positions, and grips her hips to thrust up into her. The heat of his desire presses insistently against the outside of her mound. Brianne swallows a gasp and pushes down on his chest forcefully. “Wait, Cullen. We should…”_ _

__She sighs as his fingers move from gripping her hips to tracing her spine from tailbone to shoulder blades. “Yes?” Cullen prompts in masculine satisfaction._ _

__“This is a dream.”_ _

__“Mmm. One of the best I’ve had.”_ _

__“Cullen...” she’s practically begging. “We need to wake up. I don’t want...it’s too risky.”_ _

__The Commander stills below her and his face turns inscrutable. They’re perched in that limbo for several heartbeats before Brianne opens her mouth to explain herself better. It’s too late though, as Cullen vanishes from underneath her and she falls forward onto the wrinkled bedcovers._ _

__Brianne groans to herself in verbal reprimand. She could have worded that better. She lays in the Fade-crafted version of Cullen’s bed and hopes that he understood her implications, that she was rejecting him for reasons other than a lack of wanting him. She assumes the only thing for it is to wake up and talk to him in person. She closes her eyes and slowly relinquishes her solid form to the mist of the dreaming place, letting it swirl and carry her back to consciousness._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait. Real life kicked me in the ovaries.


	3. The Battle to Come

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goodbyes are said, plans are made, and there's nothing to forgive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. It's me. I was wondering if after all these years you'd like to meet...  
> Just kidding. Sort of. Hi. Miss me? I missed you. Here's some smut. It's at the end, if you wanna skip it. 
> 
> “And the armies of Andraste raised their voices,  
> Singing a hymn of praise to the Maker. And feared no more,  
> And Andraste went apart to seek the Maker's wisdom  
> For the battle to come.”  
> \--Canticle of Apotheosis, Apotheosis 1, Andraste’s Sermon To The Armies

The sun is just cresting over the eastern profile of the Frostback Mountains as Brianne carefully makes her way down the courtyard’s stone steps to meet the Inquisitor and his party at the gates. Cal and Bull are already there, looking more awake and refreshed than Brianne feels at the moment. Just before she reaches the duo, Varric and Dorian come stumbling out of the safety of the gatehouse where they must have been hiding from the chilly morning wind.

The mage and dwarf look as awake as Brianne is (which is to say _barely _), but at least they’re dressed warmer than she is. For once, every inch of Dorian is covered in a thick, fur-lined traveling cloak that Brianne’s never seen before. He’s even wearing a pair of matching gloves. Brianne catches Cal glancing at Dorian every couple of seconds, and she wonders what progress he’s made with the Tevinter mage. There’s no time to ask though, as the contingency of soldiers and scouts that are accompanying the party swarm out from the stables, leading all of the horses to their prospective riders.__

__Brianne hugs Dorian first, burying her freezing hands inside the warm cocoon of his cloak. His moustache tickles her forehead as he mutters about Maker-awful mountain ranges and promises to write to her while he’s gone. She spares a quick hug for Varric and the flash of a smile for Bull before Cal is coming up behind her and pulling her close._ _

__Brianne squeezes the hands that are clasped around her middle and demands, “Promise me you’ll be careful.”_ _

__“What trouble could we possibly get into while wandering around spirit-infested swamplands?” Dorian’s voice is sardonic and completely at odds with the softness in his eyes as he glances at Caldwell._ _

__“That was the Fallow Mire,” Cal corrects. “We’re going to Crestwood. It will be just as wet, though. The scouts say it hasn’t stopped raining once since they set up camp. Locals are telling them it rains like that year-round.”_ _

__“Marvelous,” Dorians mutters, turning away from them to accept the reigns of his horse from a stable hand._ _

__“You are under strict orders to be careful as well,” Caldwell tells her as she turns around to look at him._ _

__“Oh really?”_ _

__“Yes. From the Inquisitor himself. You are to lead the Chargers to Redcliffe and return to Skyhold completely unscathed and as quickly as possible.”_ _

__“Well, if the Inquisitor demands…” she trails off with a grin, and he playfully pushes her away as a stablehand approaches with his Orlesian Courser._ _

__She follows the Inquisitor’s party through the gates and watches until they disappear into the mist swirling along the snow-laden road. Brianne’s skin pebbles over from more than the cold, and she says a quick prayer that everything will go according to plan._ _

__It’s too early for breakfast to be ready, but Brianne doesn’t think she can fall back asleep. She decides to swing by the kitchens to see what she can scrounge up, then maybe visit the forge to see how her new staff is coming along._ _

__********************_ _

__The door to the undercroft creaks loudly as Brianne uses her hip to slowly push it open. As the room comes into view, Brianne sees Harritt fitting a soldier for new greaves by the metalwork tables. The blacksmith doesn’t seem to see her, but the soldier he’s fitting nods at her as she descends the stairs and passes by._ _

__Her destination is the alchemy workbench where a dwarven woman is hunched over the table and fiddling with something. As Brianne approaches, the woman calls out, “Can you get me another bottle? Empty, please.”_ _

__“Once my hands are free,” the mage responds, causing the dwarf to make an honest-to-goodness squeak while turning around so quickly that she knocks over the bowl of liquid she was working with._ _

__“Oh!” Dagna cries, and Brianne hurries to set down the two mugs of tea she’s holding to help the dwarf gather rags to clean up the spill._ _

__“Ancestors!” Dagna swears when she finally sits down with Brianne. “I worked all night on that.”_ _

__“I didn’t mean to startle you,” the mage apologizes as she sips her elfroot and cinnamon tea._ _

__“Oh, it’s okay. I was just expecting a messenger, or…” Dagna trails off and glances around the undercroft, as though looking to see if anyone else is around._ _

__“Or?” Brianne prompts after a handful of seconds._ _

__“Oh, nuh-uh-no one!” the dwarf stumbles over her words and blushes before gulping down more tea. “You, uh, you want your staff?”_ _

__“Is it done?” Brianne asks excitedly. She gets up from her perch on the stone steps and follows Dagna over to the finished weapon’s rack where Harritt is saying farewell to the recruit he just finished outfitting._ _

__Brianne sees her staff and snatches it off of the rack. The newly polished ironbark gleams in the light of the forge. The leather grip is soft and comfortable, and only long enough for both of her small hands to fit together on it. There’s still no artifact at the top, but Harritt has carved the area that would normally act as the focal point into a swirl of abstract stapes.It looks like an elaborate and expensive walking stick._ _

__It’s perfect._ _

__“Do you like it? I like it. You wanted it to stay inconspicuous, so the blade’s hidden. Feel here.” The dwarf shows her how to press her thumb into a notched groove so that a small, thin blade slides out of the bottom of the staff. “If you push that again you can use magic to pull it back up. Dorian tried it out to make sure it works.”_ _

__Brianne does as she’s told. It takes the barest trickle of force magic to retract the blade back into its slot. “Very sneaky,” she praises._ _

__“You’ll be the sneakiest mage in Skyhold!” Dagna giggles._ _

__Brianne answers with her own grin and takes a few experimental swings with the staff, pretending as though she’s casting spells. Dagna’s face lights up while watching her, and Brianne lets off a harmless burst of wind and sparks. The dwarf shouts and claps, Harritt huffs and grumbles good-naturedly, and Brianne leans her newly improved weapon back against the rack so that she can rejoin Dagna on the steps of the undercroft._ _

__“Have you had any more time to work on the other thing?”_ _

__Dagna’s easy smile twists in frustration before answering. “Your theory was right when I tested it on the lyrium concentration in potions, but I can’t get my hands on any dust to run other tests.”_ _

__“How do the Templars get it to make their philters?”_ _

__“I dunno. I sent a message to the Nightingale asking about it. I dunno if they get dust or a concentrated liquid. Hey! You can ask Cullen how it normally comes. Or maybe the Inquisitor? Hopefully I’ll hear back from the Nightingale soon. I can’t really move forward ‘til I’ve got the supplies.”_ _

__Brianne sighs and leans back against the stone steps. “Thanks anyway. I’ll see Leliana before Cullen, so I’ll ask her about the distribution of lyrium. Speaking of...” Brianne stands and stretches before walking over to the lip of the cavernous undercroft to try and catch a glimpse of how far the sun has moved._ _

__Brianne has a little more time to spare before the meeting she needs to attend. She’s content to pass the time sipping tea and chatting with her recently-made friend about what can be done to lessen the side-effects from the ingestion of lyrium in non-magical beings. It’s Brianne’s hope that they can somehow come up with a way to wean the Templars off of lyrium for good. They might even be able to extrapolate their finding to encompass the effects of red-lyrium as well._ _

__An hour passes with Brianne and Dagna knocking their knees together as they sit side-by-side on Dagna’s alchemy bench. Their mugs are empty, and Brianne jokingly reads both their fortunes from the soggy leaves at the bottom of each much before saying goodbye and making her way up the steep staircase that connects the undercroft to the main section of the keep._ _

__********************_ _

__Brianne has never been to the Nightingale’s Roost at the top of the castle’s main connecting tower. She always stops a floor below to sit with Dorian when he’s feeling bored and petulant. Brianne passes through his library and hopes that he’ll return safely, along with the others._ _

__At the edge of the library’s boundaries sits the door leading up to the final level. Brianne takes a deep breathe in and out before opening it and heading up the stone steps._ _

__The Roost is surprisingly...cluttered. Brianne side-steps a scout whose face is buried in a missive, and accidentally catches her hip on the corner of a crate. There are several clusters of crates and tables, all jammed inside the circumference of the area. They aren’t simply taking up space, though. Every crate and table has at least two people huddled around it. Some are writing on small pieces of parchment. Some speak in hurried whispers before darting off in different directions. There’s an area that’s devoted to retrieving messages from returning ravens, and a separate one for tying off messages that need to be sent._ _

__For all the frenetic energy that fills the Roost, it’s a relatively quiet space. The silence is broken only by the footfalls of scouts or the heavy swish of wings and harsh caws from the Inquisition’s feathered emissaries that sit in window sills or hang from ceiling perches. Brianne looks around the tower for the Nightingale’s official space, only to find…_ _

__There is none. Sister Leliana sits at a table marginally larger than those her scouts work at. A small, Andrastian shrine occupies a nook behind her._ _

__That is all the woman has._ _

__Brianne feels both sad and confused. There is Josephine, with her roaring fireplace, velveteen chairs, and stained glass windows. There is Cullen, with his walls of endless books, ancient oaken desk, and battlement balcony. Why has Leliana set herself up in this place? There is...nothing of hers here, nothing at all to show who she is and what she means to the Inquisition._ _

__Brianne doesn’t have enough time to process all that she’s feelings. It only takes a dozen steps before she’s walked from the doorway to the Spymaster, who raises her head and nods a greeting. “Good afternoon. I appreciate your punctuality, Enchanter.” Leliana squints suspiciously at Brianne once she’s looked her in the eye. “Is something wrong?”_ _

__Brianne shakes her head no, then gestures at space in front of her. “So, this is your...office?”_ _

__“As you can see.” Leliana tilts her head questioningly, but their conversation is cut short by the loud clomping of Krem’s footfalls as he enters the Roost and joins them at the table._ _

__Krem greets the Nightingale with a half-hearted bow, but sweeps up Brianne’s closest hand to press an elegant kiss to her knuckles. Leliana warns him about flirting with taken women, which is met with a quip about the Commander needing to be ready to fight to keep what’s his. The sentiment is both heart-warming and irritating, so Brianne says nothing, and the Nightingale lays out a map of Western Ferelden on the table in front of her._ _

__“When Dorian and I ran from Redcliffe to Haven, we headed west along…” Brianne uses both pointer fingers as she leans over the table to trace the route they used all those months ago. Leliana follows Brianne’s fingers with small, wooden pieces as map markers._ _

__“Very efficient,” is all Leliana says once Brianne is done. Krem begins walking around the table, leaning forward every now and then to squint at certain words on the map. He asks about the section of the Frostbacks that border Edgehall, and the forest that surrounds both Rainsfere and Redcliffe. He questions them about villages or landmarks that may not be worthy of cartography._ _

__The Nightingale pulls out a second map to compare current areas of Venatori activity. The two of them carry on for about ten minutes before the Nightingale brings Brianne back into the conversation. “It is agreed, then. The Chargers are too large of a group to follow the Enchanter’s old path. Taking the pass from the Frostbacks down through Edgehall shall be quickest. The King’s Road to Redcliffe should be clear of Venatori, but moving to the forest at the border of Rainsfere may be wise. I will have scouts waiting there for you with any news that might affect your plans.”_ _

__“Do we know if there’s still Venatori present in the village?”_ _

__“Not that we can tell. But we do know they are still in the castle. No one has been seen coming or going, but my scouts note activity from the battlements.”_ _

__Brianne nods. “As long as we can get close enough, there are several ways to get inside. How much of the castle have they bothered to repair?”_ _

__“Hardly any of it, based on your descriptions. Your friend did an impressive amount of damage. Because of that, the only secret entrance I know of is ruined.”_ _

__Brianne’s heart twists painfully at the reminder of Felix’s sacrifice. “Don’t worry. I can get us in,” she reassures._ _

__“It may not matter if there are too many.” The Nightingale levels both Brianne and Krem with a calculating stare. “Information is critical, but the Chargers are too valuable to lose. Gather what you can, secure the castle if you are able, but the most important thing is for everyone to return. There will be no reinforcements if there are too many Venatori for you to handle. I am trusting your judgement, Lieutenant.”_ _

__Krem salutes her and winks at Brianne. “Don’t worry. Everyone’s comin’ back in one piece.”_ _

__“How soon can you be ready?” Leliana asks the both of them._ _

__“We could head out right now, but I bet the Enchanter wants another night in a soft bed.”_ _

__Brianne does not disagree. “In the morning, then?”_ _

__“At first light,” the Nightingale decrees. Brianne feels the dismissal in her words, and even though she wants to talk with her about how the Inquisition accesses lyrium, she takes the arm that Krem holds out for her instead. Brianne will wait for a private moment to have that conversation with the Spymaster. Krem holds tightly to her hand as they descend the stone staircase, and she has to put up with another deep bow and several flirtatious innuendos before they head off in separate directions. Brianne quickens her step, as she has a bag to pack and a Commander to speak with. Finally._ _

__********************_ _

__She finds Cullen pacing behind his desk, his heavy footfalls muted by the carpet. He doesn’t look up from whatever he’s reading, and she takes a moment to admire his body in movement._ _

__He finally looks at her when she crosses the room to sit on the chaise next to his ladder. He makes a sound that seems to be a cross between a sigh and a chuckle as he sets his work down and makes his way over to her._ _

__“Don’t stop working on my behalf,” she says. The request is half-hearted, and she can tell that he knows it as he settles down on the couch next to her and pulls her into a short hug._ _

__“Can you really take a break? I’d like to talk, if you have time.”_ _

__The marginal tensing of Cullen’s body speaks volumes. There she goes again. How many times will her inability to speak plainly cause this man pain?_ _

__She immediately pulls out of the hug and begins explaining. “I don’t mean like...talk as in, you’re in trouble...or that there’s a problem. I just thought….after what happened and what I said...I should…” Brianne sighs heavily and leans back against the arm of the chaise to get a good look at Cullen’s face. “You know what I’m talking about, right?”_ _

__The Commander’s hand slowly makes its way to the back of his neck. “Ah, I believe so. I vaguely remember having a nightmare last night that turned pleasant.”_ _

__“You vaguely remember?”_ _

__Brianne can barely see Cullen’s blush in the shadows of their corner. “The...pleasant part I remember in better detail.”_ _

__She grins at him. “Good.”_ _

__Instead of smiling back, his hand migrates from the back of his neck to partially covering his face. “So it wasn’t just an inappropriate, withdrawal-induced fantasy?”_ _

__“Cullen…” Brianne chides as she moves onto her knees to gently remove his hand from over his closed eyes. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. I am…” she stops short of the right word to encapsulate what they are to each other right now._ _

__After thinking for a moment, she settles on leaning forward and whispering, “I’m yours. You can dream about me in any way that you want. You have my permission.”_ _

__While Cullen’s face may be aflame, his hands are confident as they snake their way around her waist to pull her forward into his lap. A giggle slips out as she settles into his embrace and tucks the side of her head into the crook of his neck._ _

__“I’m sorry for intruding on your sleep,” she says after they’ve been sitting in silence for a minute. “I won’t do it again.”_ _

__“It’s alright. I just worry that...it won’t actually be you when I think it is.”_ _

__“We can come up with something to say so that we know what’s real and what’s a demon.”_ _

__“Like what you said about my desk.” Cullen begins lazily moving his fingers through the tail that she’s tied her hair into. She muffles a noise of contentment into his fur mantle._ _

__“Yeah,” she responds weakly, and she can practically feel the smugness radiating off of him as he moves his fingers more intentionally. Maker take this man!_ _

__“Wait. I just said that I wasn’t going to visit you again. So we don’t have to do that.”_ _

__“I wouldn’t be adverse to being saved from a nightmare every once in a while,” Cullen’s breath tickles her forehead, and she resists the urge to reach up and itch her hairline._ _

__“That’s good. Now I’ll still be able to see you even when I’m away.”_ _

__Cullen’s fingers still, her hair currently wrapped around several digits. “Why would you be going away?”_ _

__“Redcliffe,” is all Brianne has to say. The Commander tenses underneath her, and his hand fists against her scalp, pulling deliciously. Sweet Andraste!_ _

__“You’re really traveling with the Chargers then?” he demands, seemingly oblivious to how he’s affecting her._ _

She manages to squeak out an _uh-huh _as her entire face flushes pink. She cracks an eyelid open enough to see his face transform from puzzled to predatory. He releases her hair from his closed fist, and it’s only then that Brianne realizes that her entire body had been strung tight as a bowstring. Cullen allows her to relax for a single heart beat before wrapping her hair around his hand again and pulling her head backwards so that her throat is exposed and their eyes lock together.__

____

____“Would it be wrong to use this as a bargaining chip?” he asks._ _ _ _

____

____“Yesss,” she hisses, narrowing her eyes. Cullen merely chuckles, and the sound reverberates through his chest and into her body, causing her skin to pebble with bumps._ _ _ _

____

____“You’re certain I can’t convince you?” His tone has turned playful. Brianne can feel the heat of his breath ghosting over her skin. “I think you should take a moment to hear my argument.”_ _ _ _

____

____He starts at her forehead, at first trailing his lips in feather-light caresses. “It’s very cold in the mountains. In most of Ferelden, really. Who will keep you warm from the...bite of the wind and snow?” Cullen nips at the shell of her ear after his rhetorical question, and a strangled laugh escapes her as she oscillates between desire and revulsion at his ridiculous pun. Thankfully, he laughs as well, and continues on with the use of his teeth._ _ _ _

____

____He nibbles on her bottom lip. He worries a patch of skin on her neck. His nose traces the curve of her chin before his teeth skim along the same path. Brianne shivers and tenses under his ministrations, unsure of what to do with herself. When Cullen’s fingers open and close in her hair at the same moment that he bites down on her collarbone, Brianne lets lose a whine of pleasure and need, clenches her hands into the fabric of his shirt, and bucks in his lap._ _ _ _

____

____Cullen makes a strangled sound and holds her still, soothing the blooming bruise at her throat. He’s just as affected by this game as she is. She can tell by the firm length pressing against her backside._ _ _ _

____

____“Food is terrible on the road,” Cullen starts again, his voice a low rumble against her sensitive skin. “Why be forced to eat rations when you can have hot meals here, with me?”_ _ _ _

____

____“Says the man who consistently forgets to eat.”_ _ _ _

____

____Her love growls down at her, and she’s not sure if it’s because of her teasing or because the neck of her shirt is too high to expose any cleavage. With the way he keeps tugging at it, she thinks it’s the latter._ _ _ _

____

____“Off,” he orders, letting go of her hair so that she has to lean forward again or lose her balance._ _ _ _

____

____“Off what?” she asks, scooting off of his lap and standing in front of him._ _ _ _

____

____“Everything,” he demands, reaching for her. Before he gets a hold of anything she’s wearing, there’s a sharp knock on Cullen’s door a second before it opens._ _ _ _

____

____Without really looking around the room, a runner approaches the Commander’s desk, drops a sealed envelope onto the receiving pile, and scurries out of the tower with a barely a glance at the both of them._ _ _ _

____

Cullen mutters a curse and attempts to stand, but Brianne doesn’t move out of the way. She holds her left hand out in front of her to signal Cullen to stay, while her right hand waves over her shoulder, towards the door. There’s a _click _in the echoing silence, and Brianne tries to look suave. Cullen barks out a laugh and pulls her back into his lap, his hands reaching for the bottom of her long skirt.__

______ _ _

______“Our work never ends,” he murmurs to her in between kisses._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______“One day it will,” she argues before biting down on his bottom lip in retaliation for earlier._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______Her hands are in his hair while his hands skim along the inside of her legs. “When are you leaving?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______“Are you done trying to convince me not to?”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______She can feel his smile on her skin as he kisses her throat. “You’re going to go no matter what I say. No matter what I think. My stubborn love...”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______Brianne halts her movement to cradle his face in her hands. “I care very much what you think and feel. It’s always important. Don’t….please always tell me what you’re thinking and feeling.” She pleads to him with her eyes as her thumbs trace his cheekbones._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______“That’s...not what I meant. I…” he sighs into her hands. “Yes, love. I will always talk to you, if you’ll do the same for me.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______“I need to do this. I...I need to go.” There is nothing else that she can say. Words fail to express the emotion trapped inside of her chest when she thinks about that place and all that happened there._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______“I know. I’m not happy, and I’ll miss you, but I know. Be safe, please.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______“I need to pack,” she says reluctantly, leaning away from him._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______His free arm snakes around her waist, and the hand still under her skirt palms at her thigh. “How long will you be gone?” he asks, holding her to him._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______“About two weeks.”_ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______“Two weeks too long,” he complains as he shifts her so that she’s perfectly balanced in his lap with her legs dangling over the edge of the chaise. He kisses her again, stealing any reply._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______The angle and placement on the couch is awkward, right up until Cullen slips his hand inside of her smalls. It’s so unexpected that she breaks their kiss to gasp at the new sensation of his finger skimming the folds of her sex._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

______“We don’t have enough time,” Cullen says softly in her ear. “But I need to hear you. I want to dream of it. I want to know what you’ll sound like when I’m finally inside you.” And with that, the finger slowly moves from a lazy slide to an insistent press._ _ _ _ _ _

______ _ _

Andraste, Creators, and the Stone below! Brianne almost comes just from listening to him speak. Cullen has _never _said anything so forward before. She has no response other than to follow his directions. She obliges him by canting her hips and moaning for all she’s worth.__

________ _ _ _ _

It has been a very long time since she’s had anything but her own fingers to fill her, and Cullen’s are doing a much better job. She feels incredibly stretched with just the two he’s using, and her whole body seems to spark with electricity when he moves and crooks them in a certain way. It’s difficult for her to focus when he grabs her right hand and moves it towards her apex while whispering, “Show me.” His thumb takes up the solid press and swirl she eventually teaches him. It takes a few tries, but when the pad of his thumb brushes _just so _against her pearl, her sex clenches on his fingers and her entire body spasms.__

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________The noises he demanded she make are turning from sexy to...something she’s afraid isn’t very sexy. Daring a peek at his face, what little breath she still has is punched out of her when she sees his expression._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Hunger and awe are etched into every angle of his face. His eyes, focused completely on the space below her rucked up skirt, soak her up like a man parched for water. Like a man witnessing a miracle._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Brianne whimpers and closes her eyes again so that she doesn’t start crying and ruin this moment. She’ll never get used to how Cullen looks at her. It’s overwhelming._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________Her head rolls to the side and his mouth descends upon her neck. His free hand brushes the side of a clothed breast. His fingers curl and twist. She comes apart at the seams._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

__________ _ _ _ _ _ _

She lays curled up in a sated haze for several minutes as Cullen traces her profile and murmurs praises of _beautiful, perfect, _and _mine _. Brianne waits until she’s composed enough to shift her weight without accidentally hurting him. She stands briefly, then immediately plops back down so that she’s straddling a single thigh, while Cullen’s other leg dangles off of the side of the chaise.____

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________She cuts off any questions he has with insistent kisses as she deftly unties the lacing on his trousers. Thank the Maker he’s not wearing his sword belt, or else her moves would not have seemed so smooth._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________His noise of surprise is muffled against her lips. With his length still trapped inside his own smalls, Brianne has to settle for simply stroking what she can feel. Cullen gives a full body shudder and grabs her hand, although he doesn’t move it away._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________“My. Turn.” Brianne insists, nibbling her way up the column of his throat. She uses her other hand to tug at his smalls, and after a moment, Cullen shifts so that they both can scoot his clothing down enough to free his erection._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________It’s thick and hot and glorious in her hand. The angle is terrible, but Brianne does what she can, leaning over him as she is. She peppers kisses along every inch of exposed skin as she pumps and twists, watching and listening for what Cullen likes best. There’s something so wicked and sinfully right about Cullen fully clothed in his uniform with his cock out and in her hand._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Brianne contemplates kneeling down in front of the couch and taking him in her mouth right as Cullen throws an arm across his face to muffle a shout. His other hand overlaps hers on his member and squeezes in a way Brianne would never have dared. His hips jerk one...twice...then he is spilling over both of their hands and panting into the crook of his elbow._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

______________Brianne uses the very bottom of her skirt to clean their hands, in spite of the Commander’s shocked objections. She kisses him again and promises to return at dinner time with a tray of food for the both of them. She exits the tower with a skip in her step, and tries to hide the blush that builds from the knowing look that the guard stationed outside of Cullen’s office shoots her as she passes._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_____________ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I make no promises. We've established I'm terrible at keeping them. I've missed writing this, so I'm going to work on it again, whenever I can. That's all.


End file.
